[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Ifriqiya's new head of intelligence, temporary or not.
Rough flagstones covered a hall that made do without carpets. On the walls,
sporting prints showed stags at bay and scenes from a duck shoot. There was a
fireplace, carved from granite and featuring an ornate coat of arms with two
of the quarterings themselves showing quarterings. Above the mantel hung a
simple mirror while flames danced in the hearth below, filling the ground
floor of Eugenie's old house with the scent of burning pinecones.
A thickset, bejewelled woman stood in front of Raf and refused even to glance
at the prints on the walls.
Only a boar's head mounted onto a mahogany shield with the date 1908 engraved
onto an ornate silver label below drew any reaction. Lady Maryam shuddered
every time she accidentally turned in that direction.
"I came because duty demanded it," Lady Maryam said heavily. And Raf knew he
was being warned not to judge her by the objects to be found in the house.
"Sometimes," said Raf, "that's all you can do."
He'd heard the other version. The one where Major Gide bundled the Emir into a
car to get him to safety. Only to have Lady Maryam clamber in the other side
and refuse to budge. What upset Major
Gide most was her certain knowledge that Eugenie would have had no hesitation
about dragging the sullen overweight princess from the car and leaving her in
the courtyard. And that was before factoring in the Emir's fury that she'd
allowed Lady Maryam to travel with them while leaving Murad, his favourite
son, behind.
"Wait here," said Lady Maryam, "while I see if my husband is awake."
Tracking her footsteps across flagstones, Raf followed them up a flight of
stairs and across bare boards.
The knock at a distant door was surprisingly gentle.
A creak of hinges died when the door shut, leaving Raf with a waterfall of
near silences, none of them significant because they were not what Raf
listened for. Below the clatter of dishes on a work surface and the small-arms
pop of water pipes stretching, he heard the rustle of wind through a pine tree
beyond the window. The wings of an owl. Slow and methodical. And under this
the claws of a rat scurrying across the gravel at the front of the farmhouse
where Major Gide's guards patrolled creaking gates. Falling through silences,
one at a time. Hyperreal . . .
"Uncle Ashraf!"
Ashraf Bey came awake to find himself watched by Hani, Murad and Lady Maryam.
Page 114
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
There was one other person present. A thin man with swept-back grey hair and
blue eyes above a hawk nose that had once been broken. A day's worth of white
stubble only heightened the hollowness of his cheeks. And he leant heavily on
a stick. All the same, there was a ferocious intensity to his gaze; as if he
burned with fever or was some celestial body in its final stage of immolation.
"So you're Sally's child . . ." The Emir's smile was sad. "You know," he said,
"she told me you died. And
then you turn up all those years later in El Iskandryia. I wouldn't have
believed it without seeing you."
The hand that shook Raf's own was hot, dry like paper, the bones beneath the
age-bruised skin weak as twigs. Even the slight grip Raf gave was enough to
make the old man wince. There'd been a dozen things
Raf had always wanted to say to his father and none of them seemed
appropriate.
What the man opposite felt, Raf found hard to tell.
"Don't you want to talk to each other?" Hani demanded.
"It can wait," said the Emir. "What are a few minutes after this long?"
When the old man walked, it was slowly, leaning heavily on his stick. And at
every change of level
Murad Pasha positioned himself at the Emir's side so the old man could reach
out and steady himself. A
fact Lady Maryam obviously hated, to judge from the sourness of her
expression.
Although that could also have been down to the Emir's refusal to admit she
even existed. She might as well have been a trophy mounted on the wall since
she obviously created in him the disquiet that the boar's head seemed to
inspire in her.
The farmhouse had been built into the hill, with its back only slightly higher
than the front. This meant that the room into which they finally passed had
earth reaching two-thirds of the way up its outside walls;
good for warmth in winter and useful in other ways too.
"Don't tell me," Raf said, "the place was like this when Eugenie found it."
Emir Moncef smiled.
"She made a few adjustments," he admitted. "Mostly involving chicken wire and
concrete. Well, loosely .
. ." Which was true. If chicken wire included military-grade titanium mesh and
reinforced polyfoam walls could be described as concrete.
"How much of the farmhouse is actually left?"
"Ask Major Gide," he said and clapped his hands.
It seemed the answer was virtually nothing. Apart, that was, from the original
eagle gateposts, the granite fireplace and the flagstones in the hall. All
walls, internal and external, conformed to Moscow's best standards for blast
resistance. Steel-cored doors hid beneath veneers of oak. Screamer wire looped
the immediate forest at ankle height. A Molniya spysat hovered high overhead,
streaming live data to combat software stashed in the cellar. The fat pantiles
on the roof featured thermal feedback to keep the surface at ground ambient,
day and night. Even the glass in the windows, double-glazed and shatterproof,
vibrated at a random pitch to confuse anyone hidden outside with a parabolic
mic.
All of it was black tek. All of it shipped in contravention of numerous UN
resolutions banning the sales to
Ifriqiya of weapons-grade technology.
"Those hunters," said Raf.
"Georgian
Spetsnaz
."
"What about the boar?" Hani demanded.
"Fake," interrupted the Emir. "Eugenie de la Croix's idea." He nodded to Hani
Page 115
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
and smiled at Murad, who just looked at him, eyes wide, then glanced between
the Emir and Raf and scowled.
"You think we look alike," Moncef said. It wasn't a question.
The small, dark-eyed boy nodded but Hani just shook her head.
"No," she told the Emir, "you look way older."
"It's flu," Lady Maryam said when Raf finally asked.
"You're sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure." Lady Maryam's voice was sharp.
"How do you know?" Raf demanded. He'd already seen the whole farmhouse and
apart from two large rooms upstairs, one used by the Emir, with another on the
ground floor now claimed by Lady Maryam, meaning Major Gide had to share the
dorm with her troops, that was it. Apart from the hall, kitchen and cellar.
The
Spetsnaz slept at a house in the village. One of the major's jumpsuited
teenagers did the cooking. There was no one else and nothing that looked like
a surgery. As it was, Raf and the others were going to have to make their way
back to Tunis that night because anything else presented too much of a risk.
"Major Gide is also his doctor," Lady Maryam said shortly. "I'm surprised you
didn't know that." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Ifriqiya's new head of intelligence, temporary or not.
Rough flagstones covered a hall that made do without carpets. On the walls,
sporting prints showed stags at bay and scenes from a duck shoot. There was a
fireplace, carved from granite and featuring an ornate coat of arms with two
of the quarterings themselves showing quarterings. Above the mantel hung a
simple mirror while flames danced in the hearth below, filling the ground
floor of Eugenie's old house with the scent of burning pinecones.
A thickset, bejewelled woman stood in front of Raf and refused even to glance
at the prints on the walls.
Only a boar's head mounted onto a mahogany shield with the date 1908 engraved
onto an ornate silver label below drew any reaction. Lady Maryam shuddered
every time she accidentally turned in that direction.
"I came because duty demanded it," Lady Maryam said heavily. And Raf knew he
was being warned not to judge her by the objects to be found in the house.
"Sometimes," said Raf, "that's all you can do."
He'd heard the other version. The one where Major Gide bundled the Emir into a
car to get him to safety. Only to have Lady Maryam clamber in the other side
and refuse to budge. What upset Major
Gide most was her certain knowledge that Eugenie would have had no hesitation
about dragging the sullen overweight princess from the car and leaving her in
the courtyard. And that was before factoring in the Emir's fury that she'd
allowed Lady Maryam to travel with them while leaving Murad, his favourite
son, behind.
"Wait here," said Lady Maryam, "while I see if my husband is awake."
Tracking her footsteps across flagstones, Raf followed them up a flight of
stairs and across bare boards.
The knock at a distant door was surprisingly gentle.
A creak of hinges died when the door shut, leaving Raf with a waterfall of
near silences, none of them significant because they were not what Raf
listened for. Below the clatter of dishes on a work surface and the small-arms
pop of water pipes stretching, he heard the rustle of wind through a pine tree
beyond the window. The wings of an owl. Slow and methodical. And under this
the claws of a rat scurrying across the gravel at the front of the farmhouse
where Major Gide's guards patrolled creaking gates. Falling through silences,
one at a time. Hyperreal . . .
"Uncle Ashraf!"
Ashraf Bey came awake to find himself watched by Hani, Murad and Lady Maryam.
Page 114
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
There was one other person present. A thin man with swept-back grey hair and
blue eyes above a hawk nose that had once been broken. A day's worth of white
stubble only heightened the hollowness of his cheeks. And he leant heavily on
a stick. All the same, there was a ferocious intensity to his gaze; as if he
burned with fever or was some celestial body in its final stage of immolation.
"So you're Sally's child . . ." The Emir's smile was sad. "You know," he said,
"she told me you died. And
then you turn up all those years later in El Iskandryia. I wouldn't have
believed it without seeing you."
The hand that shook Raf's own was hot, dry like paper, the bones beneath the
age-bruised skin weak as twigs. Even the slight grip Raf gave was enough to
make the old man wince. There'd been a dozen things
Raf had always wanted to say to his father and none of them seemed
appropriate.
What the man opposite felt, Raf found hard to tell.
"Don't you want to talk to each other?" Hani demanded.
"It can wait," said the Emir. "What are a few minutes after this long?"
When the old man walked, it was slowly, leaning heavily on his stick. And at
every change of level
Murad Pasha positioned himself at the Emir's side so the old man could reach
out and steady himself. A
fact Lady Maryam obviously hated, to judge from the sourness of her
expression.
Although that could also have been down to the Emir's refusal to admit she
even existed. She might as well have been a trophy mounted on the wall since
she obviously created in him the disquiet that the boar's head seemed to
inspire in her.
The farmhouse had been built into the hill, with its back only slightly higher
than the front. This meant that the room into which they finally passed had
earth reaching two-thirds of the way up its outside walls;
good for warmth in winter and useful in other ways too.
"Don't tell me," Raf said, "the place was like this when Eugenie found it."
Emir Moncef smiled.
"She made a few adjustments," he admitted. "Mostly involving chicken wire and
concrete. Well, loosely .
. ." Which was true. If chicken wire included military-grade titanium mesh and
reinforced polyfoam walls could be described as concrete.
"How much of the farmhouse is actually left?"
"Ask Major Gide," he said and clapped his hands.
It seemed the answer was virtually nothing. Apart, that was, from the original
eagle gateposts, the granite fireplace and the flagstones in the hall. All
walls, internal and external, conformed to Moscow's best standards for blast
resistance. Steel-cored doors hid beneath veneers of oak. Screamer wire looped
the immediate forest at ankle height. A Molniya spysat hovered high overhead,
streaming live data to combat software stashed in the cellar. The fat pantiles
on the roof featured thermal feedback to keep the surface at ground ambient,
day and night. Even the glass in the windows, double-glazed and shatterproof,
vibrated at a random pitch to confuse anyone hidden outside with a parabolic
mic.
All of it was black tek. All of it shipped in contravention of numerous UN
resolutions banning the sales to
Ifriqiya of weapons-grade technology.
"Those hunters," said Raf.
"Georgian
Spetsnaz
."
"What about the boar?" Hani demanded.
"Fake," interrupted the Emir. "Eugenie de la Croix's idea." He nodded to Hani
Page 115
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
and smiled at Murad, who just looked at him, eyes wide, then glanced between
the Emir and Raf and scowled.
"You think we look alike," Moncef said. It wasn't a question.
The small, dark-eyed boy nodded but Hani just shook her head.
"No," she told the Emir, "you look way older."
"It's flu," Lady Maryam said when Raf finally asked.
"You're sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure." Lady Maryam's voice was sharp.
"How do you know?" Raf demanded. He'd already seen the whole farmhouse and
apart from two large rooms upstairs, one used by the Emir, with another on the
ground floor now claimed by Lady Maryam, meaning Major Gide had to share the
dorm with her troops, that was it. Apart from the hall, kitchen and cellar.
The
Spetsnaz slept at a house in the village. One of the major's jumpsuited
teenagers did the cooking. There was no one else and nothing that looked like
a surgery. As it was, Raf and the others were going to have to make their way
back to Tunis that night because anything else presented too much of a risk.
"Major Gide is also his doctor," Lady Maryam said shortly. "I'm surprised you
didn't know that." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]